


Until She's Gone

by Emmeebee



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-29
Updated: 2015-03-29
Packaged: 2018-03-20 03:59:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,519
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3635841
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Emmeebee/pseuds/Emmeebee
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Such beta. Much brother. Thank.<br/>Originally posted on ff.net on 25 January 2015.</p></blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Such beta. Much brother. Thank.  
> Originally posted on ff.net on 25 January 2015.

It was really all very simple when it came down to it. The lack of direction had been a hurdle at first, of course, but she'd found an ad in the paper for a typing course that had quickly remedied that little problem. Secretarial work hadn't ever been something she'd seriously considered, but all of a sudden it seemed to fit. She needed to get out of the house, it was a reason to move away, and it would pave the road to earning a living wage for herself.

Her family all thought it was terribly silly of her. There must be something she could do closer to home, in her parents' opinion; something that would let her live at their house until she was well set in life. And, while she'd never asked her nor outwardly expressed any interest in her opinion, she'd overheard Lily telling them she thought it would be too monotonous and unchallenging a profession for her. It was sweet that Lily thought her smart enough for more, but it just showed once more how little they all knew her.

She _wanted_ monotonous and unchallenging. Lily was the one who wanted to collect the stars and carry them all around in her pocket like coins; _Petunia_ wanted normalcy. Her perfect younger sister relied on charisma and pure talent, her hair and personality drawing people in like flame and honey. Personally, Petunia classified anyone who was drawn to her and stayed with her as Lily's bees, and those that were hurt as a result of their infatuation as Lily's moths. But that wasn't how Petunia thought it should be. It was too ostentatious, too flaunting. People, women especially, were supposed to be humble and good, while Lily lured everybody in, dabbled in witchcraft, and had the unfortunate inability to be quiet when she saw something she disagreed with. She should be more demure, more hidden. Conversely, and perhaps in part subsequently, Petunia wanted the opposite. She craved normalcy and good appearances, almost as if it could wash her clean of whatever infected Lily and might be lying dormant inside her too. Living ordinarily seemed to be the highest achievement one could reach, balancing obligations with needs quite sufficiently. It would do her quite well to be married with two children and a household income that was above average without being excessively so.

Excessiveness is, in her opinion, where it all goes wrong. Lily was _excessively_ different, be it in the way that drew people to her or the way that she could do unnatural things. The people who accepted her for this were _excessively_ weak-willed, going along with it rather than giving her the discipline she needed, the perspective she should have been given the first time she considered going to that ridiculous school. That Snape boy was _excessively_ poor and rude, neither of which she or any of _her_ friends could easily forgive.

Her parents, however, were as fascinated with magic as their youngest daughter, and were the busiest bees of them all. Dinner conversations during the school terms frequently included reports of how Lily was doing, discussions of how that thing she mentioned worked again, and gushing about Lily's achievements. And they didn't peter away when Lily did return home, instead increasing as the girl described her subjects and friends, explained those topics, and cheekily accepted the praise. Petunia could have accepted one or the other; talk while she's gone, or talk while she's here, but not both. Alas, conversations all seemed to eventually loop back around to at least a throwaway reference to Lily.

Living there just wasn't working out for Petunia. She needed to get away from the talk and the honey and the flame, and she needed to be someplace where _her_ dream wasn't seen as the crazy one.

* * *

When she first met him, her first thought was that he seemed perfect – perfectly normal, that was. He was on the chubby side, but that could very well be metabolism rather than overindulgence. His looks were attractive without being the kind of stunning that tempts sin. The way he spoke was straight to the point; he knew what he wanted done, and he knew how he wanted it done, and he didn't mince words in expressing what it was that he wanted in both cases. Vernon Dursley was no poet or wordsmith, and she admired that about him. It was blindingly obvious that he was the embodiment of every dream of blissful mediocrity she'd ever had. Lily would think him boring and materialistic, Petunia knew, but she didn't see him that way herself. Ordinariness did not make one boring or worthless; being good is better than being widely renowned. No, she saw him as the sort of man who liked working on and completing set, planned tasks, and whose life ambition was to be normal and comfortable. And she couldn't fault him for any of that, given that that was exactly what the young secretary wanted too, both in a partner and in life.

_They'll see_ , she thought to herself as a waiter showed them to an empty table with a picturesque view of the blossoming spring fields. _I know what makes me happy, while they confuse me for themselves and assume I need the same things. They didn't know me, and they didn't know what they had, but they soon will. When I don't go crawling back to them, and when they realise I'm better as I am. Then they'll see._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All opinions belong, obviously, to this version of Petunia. Some are expressions or exaggerations or warped versions of what I think, others follow on from those versions, and others still just seemed to fit her character. I'm not going to apologise for how she is portrayed or her opinions expressed, but I do want to say some things about it.
> 
> Health and weight don't have a straightforward relationship; weight may be a symptom or a sign or a cause, but it certainly doesn't solely determine healthiness. Petunia is interested in whether Vernon's weight is due to a) him eating more than he has to, which teenage!Petunia wouldn't approve of because she believes in moderation, or b) his specific body shape and metabolism, in which case she wouldn't mind. The issue for Petunia isn't size, but rather what that might mean for Vernon's approaches to and habits in other areas of life. I kind of see Petunia as a crueller, more vindictive, less religious version of Marilla Cuthburt in this regard.
> 
> Of course, while people should be informed about and have access to healthy food, no one should be shamed for what they choose unless it endangers a dependant.


	2. Original Draft

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I initially started writing this story just before Christmas, but I couldn't find it when I was ready to continue working on it. After searching everywhere that came to mind, I eventually just decided to start again and replicate the themes and metaphors I remembered as best as I could. About a month later, I was scrolling through the hundreds of notes I have saved on my phone and came across it. It wasn't finished at the time and I'm not interested in finishing the intended ending again, but I'm extremely happy with some of the writing and want to do something with it, so… here it is.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Originally posted on ff.net on 23 February 2015.

She was incredibly practical about the whole matter, in her opinion. Scouring the paper for job openings and courses, for anything good and natural and regular, had been the first step. She'd had no real idea about what she wanted to do, just that she wanted it to be respectable and normal – the kind of occupation where somebody would look at you and then forget all about you once they'd turned away because you were just that commonplace. That sister of hers had always stood out, drawing attention wherever she went without shame, almost as if her hair were real flame and her cheekiness real catnip and everyone around her fell into either the moth or cat category except for Petunia. There had been a time when Petunia had wanted that knack too, but those had been the foolish fancies of a little girl who hadn't known any better. Now she did, and she wanted to be as far removed from that as possible. Life wasn't about standing out like some overeager child or pompous high school graduate so sure of their own worth and single-handed power; it was about doing what was right, just like everybody else was supposed to do. Being good was often seen as being boring, so she might as well embrace that fact.

The typing course in London had caught her eye. It was such an expected narrative; the unwed oldest daughter of an industrial worker moving to London to do a proper sort of course and enjoy respectful middle class society, the kind concerned with morality and propriety. It would suit her just fine, and it would serve as a reminder to Lily as to just how one ought to act. She knew she was being idealistic, which she didn't accept on the principle of it being too focused on the intangible and possible rather than on the actual, but she could see it potentially swaying Lily from her current path. All Lily had needed, in her opinion, was for their parents to have decided to refuse the ludicrous invitation and teach her sense instead. It hadn't taken very long at all for Petunia to assess the course and her situation and apply for it, and hardly longer than that for her to be accepted.

Her apartment in London was utterly breathtaking at first; all those people living their normal, normal lives right near her doorstep, drifting past as a constant reminder that she was but one drop in the ocean of living people. It had quickly soured, however; she liked suburbs, she liked places where you could stickybeak and collect information like a magpie, and she liked tranquillity.

Upon the completion of her typing course, she'd promptly applied for various secretarial positions, received an offer, and accepted it without waiting for any other responses in case they changed their minds and took someone else. The goal wasn't to have the flashiest job or the highest salary, after all – overindulgence just wasn't to be done – but it was respectable and would provide her with enough income to remain in the city and, maybe, eventually move to one of its suburbs. Anything higher than that would have been frivolous.

In hindsight, she'd deemed that one of the best decisions of her life, closely behind moving in the first place. The first day on the job had been spent trying to remember as much as possible so that she wouldn't be seen as underperforming while not standing out as particularly above average either – until she met the young man from the sales department while fetching coffee.


End file.
